


Dancing in the Moonlight

by ariaelwen



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Female Kíli, Genderbending, Should be pointed out this was written before Desolation of Smaug was released, Smuttyness and voyeurism ahoy, There is much mention of Balin's (Thorin's) cold and hungry mantra, complete with discourse on Dwarven and Elven politics, complete with runon sentences that I will not apologise for, this is like book and film meet, vanilla porn with no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaelwen/pseuds/ariaelwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She shouldn’t be watching, she really shouldn’t be watching. Only a pervert watched, or maybe only a pervert did? She never could keep those ideas straight. "</p>
<p>Doubly lost in Mirkwood after deciding to go hunting since they are all cold and starving Kili stumbles across a scene she really shouldn't have.</p>
<p>Written before the release of Desolation of Smaug and therefore incorporating a bit more book characterisation and scenario.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in the Moonlight

She shouldn’t be watching, she really shouldn’t be watching. Only a pervert watched, or maybe only a pervert did? She never could keep those ideas straight. Even if she could normally remember there was no possibility she would remember now when she, as her uncle put it, was: “cold and starving”, it was perhaps not the best way of putting it, but it did explain a lot, and maybe she could use that as a defence if they ever decided to look in her direction. She was cold and starving and just… oh now that really wasn’t a defence was it. She really was a pervert. But she’d heard a noise from just off the path and then seen a light through the trees, how could she not in good faith investigate it? There that was a better explanation and a truthful one.

               Of course she really shouldn’t have strayed quite so far from the path no matter how she explained it away. Curiosity was a really bad thing when combined with Mirkwood-Greenwood-towering-forest-of-petrifying-trees-wood after all. But then if you kept your pack on the path, tied a rope around it, looped that around one of the many nearby trees and then tied the other end to your middle, you weren’t technically straying from the path, were you? Leaving it yes, but you weren’t ‘straying from it’. You were also perfectly safe so long as you kept all of your weapons on your person and didn’t fall into any magical streams. Fíli would of course argue semantics, but it didn’t change the truth of the matter at all. The truth of the matter remained that she shouldn’t be watching and she certainly should not be crouched beneath a terrifyingly prickly bush that will no doubt teach her the folly of her ways when she had to leave its spiky folds in the future. She wouldn’t tell Fíli, even if her hair no doubt would.

               Damn her hair, why couldn’t it have the same density as her Mam’s? Because Fíli inherited it, of course! Damn older siblings and their annoying habit of reaping all of the rewards of being born first.

               But, ow! Why did there have to be a twig sticking up her leg through a hole in her trousers that she’d been putting off mending for the last two weeks, and another, rather uncomfortably scratching her bum? It made for a very awkward crouch, if she moved much more her quarry would be alerted to her presence by a random stick that would without doubt go: snap.

               Her quarry?

_Really?_

She scrunched up her face. Well, yes, she supposed they were really. She was staring at them intently, swiping absently at her tangled fringe, just as she would some animal that she was stalking for dinner. Something that she really was supposed to be doing now, all things considered. Even if there were only those horrible little black squirrels that were more gristle than meat. Finding strange people in the woods was not what she was supposed to be doing. Hunting for something to fill the company’s stomachs was.

_And how was that even possible?!_

She twisted her head to the side, to a different angle in the hope that it would reveal… well… something. Because _THAT_ just wasn’t possible no matter what the fey creatures did. That was just anatomically impossible. She certainly couldn’t imagine herself being in _THAT_ position, no matter how much she might want to, nor any other dwarf for that matter. The fact that it would almost certainly have to be a man that just about the entirety of her male (and female) family members approved of just made it even more unlikely, unless she eloped or decided to be obstinate. Then again, after they retake the Lonely Mountain she would be a rich lady of own means not reliant upon anyone for her own wealth; even if she would likely have to give some of it to her Mam, who would also nab some of Fíli’s as well, but then he might inherit the entirety of their Uncle’s share so that just wasn’t fair! But to have complete fiscal independence and not be reliant upon her tight-fisted uncle for just about everything would be lovely. She might even take up travelling; just not ever through Mirkwood-Greenwood-weirdy wood ever again! No matter how much her ridiculous family begged her. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Even if it would almost have to be a man. Unless she could persuade Fíli's sweetheart…which was always possible, they did have similar tastes after all, and surely he wouldn’t mind sharing. He had always been told to share with his little sister.

She bit her lip to stop a giggle escaping at the thought, a small snort slipping past she glanced up at the torch and moonlit lovers she’d stumbled across. She’d seen no-one except her own kin and Bilbo for weeks now; it was almost nice to see someone new for a change, even if they didn’t know it. Thankfully her amusement had not travelled beyond the confines of her bush to the two Elves; red and brown hair and limbs all intertwined amongst the fallen leaves. It seemed a strange place for a tryst in Kíli's mind, but then Elves were strange creatures, stranger even than Hobbit’s; neither however were stranger than Wizards. Those Elves of Rivendell had only proved that to her beyond any doubt, what with their strange singing. Of course those Elves were not the same as those she spied upon, these were the Elves of the Greenwood-Mirkwood-whatever-it-wanted-to-be-called-wood and even SHE knew they were not the same. Just because her family was exiled from the Lonely Mountain did not mean that her education was any less than her elder kin’s. She was a princess of Durin’s folk and it was her duty – no matter how much she might detest it- to know the politics of the kingdom’s in the West of Middle-earth in the Third age, and beyond. Not understanding that the Elves, just as the Dwarves and Men, had separate kindred’s and clan’s would have constituted a severe lack in her education. Not that she could remember all of the intricacies of it. Elven politics had not been her favourite lessons, and it had mostly focused upon the enclaves at the Haven’s and Rivendell, those being the closest tradewise with the Blue Mountain’s, but she had most certainly learned about it.

_Now what were they doing?_

Her eyes widened with understanding as a hand strayed to her breast of its own accord. That was, well that was nice.  Why couldn’t someone do that to her every so often?

The tongue roamed, hands caressing; soft noises of pleasure. She could feel her own muscle’s clench in anticipation, that was, that was, _that_ was fantastic.

Now if only her tutors had the sense to teach her _THAT_ , that would have been much more useful; and why couldn’t they have taught her the dialect properly? She could hear them whispering in their odd tongue, endearments, instructions, she knew not what. It was frustrating.

Suddenly the pair flipped and she caught a glimpse of green eyes in a narrow face. She had clearly tired of being teased. Nimble fingers danced and her companion threw her head back in to the leaves with a peal of laughter, clear as ringing bells that made Kíli's hair stand on end and her fingers to cramp convulsively in their own teasing motion.

Down and down, and up and up. Fingers dancing in the moonlight beneath the darkened boughs.  She needed to move, she needed to – ai, Mahal she needed something!  (And surely calling upon the Maker at this moment was sacrilegious). If she stayed away from camp much longer someone would come looking and then it would be very embarrassing for all concerned, including her! But, but, but _oh now what were they doing?_ Her hair stood on end. Her nerves on fire. How did they manage to do that? Fíli better hurry up and find a sweetheart, or she’d find him one, there was no way she would be able to do that with a man. She wouldn’t _want_ to do that with one either. Besides there would be no way they would know exactly where to go, not like that red-head!

Pervert, pervert, pervert! She had to stop watching, she really and most definitely had to stop! If for no other reason than her legs were cramping into spasms of pain. Her stomach was doing interesting things too. All of which was beside the point. But now she was stuck, if she moved they would know she was there and even as naked as they were they probably had sharp pointy objects nearby, they did after all live in this Valar forsaken wood, but she also had pointy objects and so it would end in stalemate until one of them realised that she was tied to a tree.

Stupid!

How could she have been so stupid? Seeing strange lights and hearing noises in a terrifying wood should not have equalled “I wonder what that is?” It should have meant, “I don’t know what that is, but I should leave it well alone.” You’d have thought that she might have learnt that after seeing Bombur fall asleep from enchanted water, but no, she had to think: “that looks interesting, let’s go off the path that Beorn and Gandalf told us in no uncertain terms to stay on.”

Stupid!

Oh Mahal how could they even do that? She groaned. Tongues should not be able to do that. Two bodies twisted together on the ground, she could barely see where one began and the other ended, caught up in their own passions. She should move now, when the moaning and the groaning and the whispering and the pleading was on going but she couldn’t tear her eyes away; nor her hands. Twisting and knotting and playing and rubbing. It just wasn’t fair, this entire adventure wasn’t fair. She was stuck travelling with a bunch of men who are mostly her kin, and a Hobbit who hadn’t even realised that she wasn’t a lad. The fact that Hobbit’s were all smooth as an Elf hardly gave him a right not to realise that Dwarves were the opposite.

Oh Mahal, could they just stop doing that.

Or maybe keep doing that but give her time to bite on a finger to stop any sound coming out. Oh this just wasn’t fair!

Slowly, carefully she folded her knees down to the prickly earthen floor, before agony could spread in her legs any further. Gulping air, unable to rip her eyes away from the strange creatures in the small glade. The heat in her limbs, it wasn’t just from the raging cramps in her legs, or the feet that would soon be asleep in their thick boots.

Oh Mahal could they stop soon!

Tears pricked. It was beautiful, beautifully excruciating. Could they stop? Could they never stop? Oh just, _please._

The birds soared from the trees, an explosion of sound, and then silence.

Utter silence.

She held her breath, hardly daring to suck in a ragged gulp. The two in the glade lay still, their own rasping turning into quiet giggles. They lay still.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t shift. She could barely breathe.

How was she to go back to camp now?

Pervert.

Pervy, pervert.

It was her penance now that she couldn’t move a muscle, her limbs frozen in place. To the two elves who had delighted each other and tortured Kíli the silence probably felt peaceful, to her it was hideous. A watchful, hideous silence. Any noise could give her away. Her breath could give her away. Her pack could give her away.

Her pack!

It had seemed such a good plan when she’d first decided upon it; a clever plan for an exceptionally clever young woman. Now it seemed it was really an incredibly stupid plan created by someone turned slow by cold and hunger (as her uncle would no doubt describe it – she really was getting sick of him describing everything in those terms). She bit her finger harder, wincing. She’d forgotten it was there.

Stupid!

It was turning colder; she had long since lost any feeling in her toes. Fíli was going to murder her when she finally got back to camp.

Movement, slow and languid they delighted in pulling each other to their feet, hands darting around waists and being slapped back with an admonishment. She might not understand the words, but even Kíli could understand the sentiment and the looks. It looked like she wasn’t the only one running late.

Well…that was one way to put clothes on. She blinked, and then blinked again. That was, well… Kíli really better hurry up with this finding another half business. Really hurry up. That or she would have to find some way to get an elven lover, surely they didn’t have the same issues that dwarves had with too many men and too few women? Unfortunately that didn’t really have the same appeal, even if she…

Hot so hot now. 

Her cheeks were blushing she could feel it. She had really seen enough of elven women to last a lifetime. Now if only they would have the good grace to _go away._

Laughing, chiding, good natured ribbing as they adjusted clothing and weapons that had been hidden amongst the fallen foliage. She ducked her head down further, peering out beneath a shaggy fringe, willing them to not look, to ignore her thorny prison.

Silence. The torches went out. Magic. Moonlight filtered haphazardly through the branches. She moved her legs and bit back a cry. Agony, pure, unbridled, agony.  Legs, feet, hands, neck, head, _hair_! Everything hurt.

She swore softly to herself, blinded now by both the pain and the darkness, though in truth it wasn’t really that dark. Slowly she began to pick out familiar shapes as she rubbed at her legs, breathing life back into tight muscles, wincing as her sharp protector turned persecutor attacked her from all sides.

The glade was empty; the torches missing from their leafy wooden brackets as though they’d never been.  Utter, eerie silence.

Now was her chance, her only chance, she just had to hope that the elven pair had also been late in returning home and would be rushing back to their duties so that they wouldn’t hear her as she forced her way back out of the bush with many a curse, rip and tear.

She followed the rope, it leading her safely back to the path. See it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all, even if something had nibbled on the end fastened to the pack. She shuddered, half glad that she hadn’t met the creature, half wishing she’d had the foresight to set a trap to catch it, at least then her stomach might not be jumping quite so much. Watery stew would have done the trick in settling her stomach. Of course it would have. It would have also meant she wouldn’t have been empty handed returning to camp.

She was stiff, so stiff. Numbed fingers fought with the knot she’d tied so easily, she knew not when. Fíli would murder her, and uncle would have the rest. She shouldered her pack, rolling her shoulders, brushing leaf litter from her hair. It would have to do. She couldn’t mend her clothing, or find food by simply clicking her fingers. She would simply have to return empty-handed, as she had many a time before.

She wouldn’t tell them. She couldn’t tell them. No matter how much they scolded, and muttered and moaned. No matter how much they complained about her being missing for hours, for making them worry; but not so much that they went looking for her.

She would never tell them.

She couldn’t tell them.

Not even when they spied the twinkling lights and fires of the Elven King would she tell them.

Not even when the Elven king scolds them for making mischief and spoiling his people’s celebrations would she tell them.

It was nothing to do with them.

It was private.

It was magic.

_Pervy, pervert._

 

And when Kili leaves the path a few days later after seeing more lights, she rather pointedly makes no mention of her earlier findings. She isn't a pervert after all. But if she takes an interest in the actions of certain of their Elven guards more than any others, well that's her prerogative and no one else's. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
